


The Price of Kindness

by antigrav_vector



Series: CapIM Bingo fills - 2016-2 [23]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Movies)
Genre: As Fuck, Cap_Ironman Bingo, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sappy, Sick Character, Sickfic, Stony Bingo, Stony Bingo 2016, Tony is a sap, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: Thor brings home a cold. Steve can't just stand back. And, somehow, Thor gets Steve sick despite the Serum.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An unrepentantly fluffy fill for the "(very) minor illness" prompt on my bingo card. Unbeta'ed, so please forgive any remaining errors.

When Thor returned from Asgard telling them about his adventures in Jotunheim and helping deal with the Frost Giants. What he didn't tell them was that he'd caught the Asgardian equivalent of a cold.

A few days later, Thor was sprawled full length on the large sofa in the common room, monologuing about how it was unseemly for a warrior to be brought low by sickness.

Steve, knowing _exactly_ what it was like to be sick, couldn't help himself. He made soup. And tea. And watched as all of it disappeared. Then did it again the next day.

Now, though, he was paying for it in spades.

Somehow, despite the serum that was supposed to keep him fighting fit, he'd caught whatever germ Thor had dragged home with him, and, wow. He'd thought he'd remembered what it was like to be sick, but this was something else.

Either he'd willingly forgotten just how badly he hated the feeling of having his head stuffed with cotton wool, or this was worse than any flu he'd ever had before. His sinuses were throbbing with the pressure of the built up nastiness this cold was causing, and his joints ached, no matter how many blankets he scavenged to huddle under.

Tony had checked in on him repeatedly, clearly worried, but didn't dare spend a lot of time in the room. His lover had always been a bit compulsive about getting sick -- or at least he had for as long as Steve had known him -- and Steve couldn't blame him for it. Tony actually wasn't kidding when he said his stocks would drop if he got sick. Steve had actually seen it happen once. And that wasn't even taking into account the fact that he still needed to be careful, even now that he'd had the arc reactor removed. It had seriously compromised his immune system, and coming back from that was a slow process.

The knowledge didn't make him less miserable, though.

Now that Thor felt a bit better, Steve had taken his place on the common room sofa, though he chose to forego the monologuing.

Bruce had been and gone, taking a sample from him to analyse for reasons Steve couldn't seem to make out through the haze.

The rest of the team all seemed to be fine, though, rather to everyone's surprise. They'd seen Thor's virus take him down for the count, and then Steve, and they'd all feared the worst. Tony had likened it to another Black Plague before Bruce had shushed him.

Bruce's analysis came back with a stunning result, though: the rest of the team were fine _because_ none of them had the serum. Bruce was okay because his version was different enough to let him avoid catching whatever this was.

It was unfair.

Steve had unashamedly sulked after getting that bit of news. Not even Tony's coaxing had convinced him to put the blankets aside enough to meet anyone's eyes.

"Cap?" Tony's voice rang out in the room again, and this time, Steve could smell food.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he needed to eat, even if his appetite was nonexistent. Saying nothing and shifting onto his side so he could curl up a bit more, Steve stubbornly pulled the blankets tighter around himself.

"Come on," Tony tried again, "come out of there. I ordered your favourite from that pizza place on 62nd."

It was tempting.

Tony sat on the sofa in the curve that Steve's body naturally made, and then a hand wormed its way under the blankets to find his. Tony's fingers toyed with his, and Steve couldn't help but let the action weaken his resolve. He _was_ hungry, and he missed having Tony to cuddle at night.

His stomach growled again and Steve gave in, with slightly ill grace. He peeled the blankets back only just far enough that he could reach out and pull Tony in close, wrapping his arms around his lover. Tony's fingers started running through his hair instead, while Steve held him close.

"It'll get cold," Tony said after a few minutes.

With a groan, Steve uncurled himself a little. "Not hungry."

"Sure you are. You just don't feel it yet." Tony didn't stop fingercombing his hair, and Steve let himself enjoy the feeling, pushing into the caress when Tony tried to stop.

Tony chuckled at him, and pulled at his arm. "Up you go."

Steve whined, petulantly protesting the move, but content enough when Tony responded by tucking himself under Steve's arm and pulling the blankets around them both.

"Eat," Tony insisted.

Realising Tony wasn't going to give in, Steve grumbled under his breath and picked up a slice of pizza. Eyeing it dubiously, he took a tentative bite.

Somehow, the whole pie disappeared, as Tony had clearly intended it to, but it seemed to Steve as though he'd blinked after the first bite and then was staring at the crust of the last slice.

"Alright," Tony said, breaking his silence to prod at him verbally, "on your feet. You need to sleep in a bed, this time." 

Steve didn't resist; he was suddenly feeling a lot better.


End file.
